Brood bitches require to be fed twice a day, and their rations should include milk and raw meat. They must not be allowed to get too fat, and must be given plenty of exercise. A dose of salts just before whelping is a good thing.
Whelps should be left on the dam as long as possible, but, to help her, they should be persuaded to begin to lap at about a month old; at about the same age they should be given a mild dose for worms—ruby syrup is recommended. Their food should be gradually thickened up with soaked bread crust or biscuit. At first they should be fed twice a day, then thrice, and finally, when they are weaned at about ten weeks, four times a day. Raw meat, very finely chopped, should be given as soon as they will eat it, about as much as will fill a tea spoon, once a day at first, and later double the quantity. At about three months old the feeds can be gradually reduced till, soon after four months, the young hounds can be fed like the rest of the pack.
For the benefit of their coats and skins all hounds should be dressed twice during the summer with oil and sulphur, which should be left on for at least forty-eight hours. If it is considered advisable to wash hounds for vermin, a weak solution of MacDougall’s sheep dip should be used. For the treatment of vermin Keating’s powder, and for cuts carbolic oil must always be on hand. For eczema, a dose of salts, a dressing of oil and sulphur, and a diet of raw meat are advised. For distemper, the most important things are to keep the hound warm and to treat him as an invalid for three weeks after he is apparently well. Every effort must be made to make him feed, the best diet being soup, milk and fish.
But the essence of kennel management is that the kennelman should be observant, so that he at once detects any symptoms of illness or lameness.
CHAPTER III.
BEAGLING.
By G. H. Longman.
Though perhaps it may be too much to say that hunting the hare on foot with a pack of 15-in. beagles is the most interesting method of pursuing the animal, still, if the evenness of the chances is to be the criterion of interest, certainly the contest between a good pack of beagles and a strong hare—the odds being slightly in favour of the latter—presents sport in its truest elements.
A good pack of these little hounds will no doubt on a good scenting day account for any hare, barring accidents; but these accidents are extremely numerous, the first and foremost being the rising up in the middle of the pack of a fresh hare just as the hunted animal is evidently sinking. This mishap occurs more frequently than any other, and is generally irremediable. Imagine a large ploughed field of stiff clay, the hunted hare down, and hounds just feathering on the line, scent having become a little weak. The huntsman is nearest (and all praise to him, as hounds have run hard for forty minutes!); he has pulled up to a walk, for the clay land clings to each boot with a tenacity which renders even walking a wearisome struggle. He knows well that the moment is critical, as there are probably fresh hares lying in the field; that scent may so far fail as to compel him to make a cast; and that this will certainly increase the already imminent danger of a change. He is just stopping, in order to keep well away from his hounds, when he almost treads on a fresh hare which gets up under his feet. She heads straight for the pack, but our huntsman stands still as death; puss, seeing hounds, swerves away without their catching a view, and the danger of a change is for the moment past. But our huntsman’s eyes are at work, and he presently observes a dark form stealing away about a hundred yards in front of the pack. He looks again, makes sure that it is his hare, and then, blowing his horn, has his hounds to him in a trice, while he gamely struggles through the clay at the best pace he can muster towards the spot where the hunted hare has disappeared over a brow, her arched back betraying her distressed condition, so that if only hounds can get a view they must kill her.
The game is well-nigh won; but unfortunately the hounds’ heads are up, and, a fresh hare rising in their very midst, away goes the whole pack, running the stranger in view. Really well under control as they are, no amount of rating or horn-blowing will stop them unless someone can get round them. Get round them! Alas, anyone who has run with beagles knows the impossibility of this until hounds check! It is, moreover, quite likely that they will run without checking for at least twenty minutes, and then what prospect will there be of recovering the line of the hunted hare? Some slight chance indeed there is, for a tired hare always stops, so that, if any vestige of a line can be shown, hounds may work up to and re-find her. Far oftener, however, all trace has vanished, when they are brought back to the spot where she was last seen.